by Alisa Adams
Connor was introducing her to everyone - he was so proud to be beside her, this beautiful woman who very shortly would become his wife and bear him the child he longed for. He had met Monique not long after Rosina left, and there was no question of her refusing him. She was in no position to - besides, he thought, she could do a lot worse than marry Connor McPhail who came from a good family and an old line. Rosina Buchanan on, the other hand, was an heiress in her own right and could pick and choose her suitors. Looking back, he was glad she had refused him. She was altogether too full of herself, and he had convinced himself that he had never really loved her anyway.
Monique, although the daughter of a baron, was poverty-stricken with the death of her father and Monique's husband, and had no such luxury. But she was charming, quiet and biddable, and had never raised any objection when he kissed her or touched her breasts. He looked forward to the time when he could make her his, but he could wait. A decent time was three months, he thought, and she had agreed with him. In fact, they were already making her dress. Meanwhile, he was delighted to be the envy of every man in the room.
Monique caught her breath as she saw Hugh leaving the hall, intending to leave, she assumed. She had to have an excuse to see him before he left. She tapped her fan on Connor's elbow and whispered something in his ear. He nodded, smiled at her, and went back to his conversation.
Under the pretense of going to the privy, she walked out as fast as she could and caught up with him just as he was putting his topcoat on.
* * *
"Laird Hugh!" she called. He turned and his face changed. there was a delighted but desperate look in his eyes.
"Monique! What -"
"I wanted to see you before you left," she said quickly, looking over her shoulder to see if anyone was following her. She dropped her gaze and crossed her hands demurely in front of herself, then took a step back to keep a good distance between them. He realized at once what she was doing and kept his own body language neutral. She was flustered but was trying not to show it as she began to speak.
* * *
"I am sorry - and please tell me if I am wrong -"
"You're not wrong," his glance flicked over her shoulder and he shook his head very slightly to tell her the coast was clear. "The first moment I saw you I knew we were meant to be together, but you are marrying someone else and we have to respect that. And as yet we do not know each other well."
"But I do not want to marry him!" she said furiously, "I never did! Oh, he is a pleasant enough man and I like him - but there is no attraction - not from me. It is a - how do you say it? A marriage of convenience."
Hugh sighed.
"There is nothing we can do," he said sadly, "I am an honorable man, Monique. I cannot do this to Connor."
She nodded slowly.
"I understand," she said softly, "but we will not be married for three months. It is so little time but we will have memories to treasure. Hugh, I only want to talk, to find out about you, and I want to know what it feels like to kiss you, nothing more," she looked over her shoulder again, "Connor is going to Glasgow on business on Friday. May I come and see you that morning?"
He knew he should refuse - his better judgement was telling him so, but his body and his heart completely overruled it. Then he bowed over her hand formally and kissed it.
* * *
"Of course, Lady Monique!" he said, smiling. Connor had come up behind them so Hugh was acting as if he was saying a pleasant farewell. "May I call you 'Lady Monique?' since you are so nearly Laird Connor's wife?"
"Of course," she said pleasantly, "goodnight, Sir Hugh."
Connor smiled indulgently, and as Monique walked away he whispered to Hugh:
"I can hardly wait!" Then he gave him a conspiratorial wink and departed.
'Neither can I,' Hugh thought with satisfaction. He knew that he would have to restrain himself and he knew that it would be difficult, but he looked forward to doing nothing more than sitting in the company of a beautiful woman and talking about homely pleasant things, instead of livestock, crops, the weather and the price of oats or barley. But she had said she wanted to kiss him, and there he was on dangerous ground. He must not let things go too far - he was a gentle man, but a strong one, or so he hoped. But was he strong enough?
Monique, Juliette, and her children lived in a wing of Connor's castle which was situated at the opposite end to his, to stop any suggestion of impropriety. Juliette and Monique slept in one room, the children and their nanny in another. Juliette was so tired after the stressful reception that she went straight to sleep, leaving Monique to think of Hugh. He was the most attractive man she had ever met, in the primal sense. As soon as their eyes met she felt a tingling, throbbing sensation she had not felt for a long time. She felt her cheeks flush and her heart begin to beat faster, and there was something about him that persuaded her that he felt the same. He looked confused, even a little uncertain and when he stepped forward to kiss her hand, his was trembling a little. It was Saturday night. Friday was still six days away - how was she going to stand it?
31
The Sight
Annie McNab, apart from her gift of 'the Sight,' was a practical, sensible woman who ran her spotlessly clean household like a well-oiled machine. Her gift could have made her rich since many of the townspeople sought her advice in matters of the heart, but she would never charge money for her services. She was of the opinion that her Sight was a gift from God and He would tell her the best way to use it for His purposes. But she was always being showered with gifts of foodstuff, knitted goods, and home-brewed ale. However, since folk had put their hands and hearts into making and growing these things for her, she never refused them but accepted them with gratitude.
* * *
Logan found this out when he asked Callum one day as they were sitting by the side of Loch Linnhe fishing for sea trout. He and Rosina had not spoken of the incident in the bedchamber again, although it was between them all the time, in every word they said and every glance that passed between them.
* * *
"Callum," he asked curiously, "how long has Annie had the Sight?"
"A' her life, Sir. She says that her mother had it and hers afore that," he laughed softly, "but she says it is a burden sometimes. There are things she hae to tell people that they might no' want tae knaw, even though they ask. She has often hae' to tell women that they are barren, and that breaks her heart. Mony's a time she's come in here greetin' because Mrs McLaughlin or Mrs Ferguson has jist heard the bad news."
"Is she always right?"
"I have never knawn her tae be wrong, sir," Callum replied.
Logan thought for a moment.
"She told me something last night," he said, frowning, "and it is only beginning to make sense to me now. I think I will ask her advice one more time. How should I thank her?"
Callum laughed.
"Your blessing will be enough, Sir," he replied happily.
Rosina and Maisie went out to the market that morning. they had asked Annie but she had declined, with no reason than that she did not want to go. One of the things Rosina had always liked about Annie was her confidence. She never felt the need to explain herself.
As they walked into town Rosina suddenly said:
"I love him."
Maisie sighed.
"I know, Mistress," she said patiently, "you told me before."
"But now I have decided that I want to marry him," she said, with a gleam of determination in her eyes. Maisie sighed.
"Mistress, he will not marry anyone. He has told you that already."
"I know, but Maisie, he will soon realize that he cannot tell me what to do," she said grimly, "I will make myself impossible to resist."
"Do not get yourself with child, Mistress, please!" Maisie begged, horrified.
Rosina let out a peal of laughter.
"Maisie, I am in love, but I am not desperate!"
Maisie looked at her doubtfully.
"Mistress, you are besotted!" she cried, "I have never seen you act like this before! With this man, nothing you do will surprise me!"
Rosina shrugged and said mischievously:
* * *
"I would give a lot to taste his lips again, Maisie," Rosina said dreamily, "they are so soft."
"Have a care, Mistress," Maisie said dryly, "that your head does not end up the same way!"
Rosina burst out laughing, and Maisie joined in.
"Thank you for the warning, Maisie, but I am afraid it is already too late!"
When they were all seated at the table eating their supper of sea trout from the loch and vegetables from the kitchen garden, Logan was his usual taciturn self, speaking only when spoken to and rarely smiling. After the meal, he intended to speak to Annie privately and
seek her counsel. She was very happy that evening. Somehow the thought of her own upcoming marriage seemed to have taken years off her, and she was slightly tipsy from all the ale she had drunk. Callum was looking at her fondly and laughing at some of her more outrageous pronouncements, for she had a wonderful sense of humor. Logan, as he always did, drank only milk. He would drink tea when it was offered but he preferred the bitter aromatic taste of coffee. However, the chances of getting coffee in Fort William were very slim, so he sipped his milk and resolved to have some coffee sent up to Annie when he got back to the Lowlands - if he ever dared go back there.
When the meal was finished Annie made tea, which Logan once more declined. He took his chance to speak to Annie when she was going into the kitchen, but he could see by her eyes and hear by her slightly slurred speech that she was not going to make any sense.
"I wanted to speak to you, Annie, but the morning will do." He patted her shoulder and began to turn away, then froze.
"Dinnae' gie up the prize, Logan," she said clearly, "take what is yer ain."
He turned back to her, amazed, but she had already gone to join the others.
As always, the thoughts that preoccupied him every night before sleep were of Rosina, but this time it was different. 'Take what is your own.' Was the prize Rosina? And what would he do if she came to him again, this time in the middle of the night, when everyone else was asleep? Would he have the strength to say no to her again? Somehow he doubted it. She was certainly a passionate woman, and although he hid it well, he was a passionate man. He might have been comforted by the thought that down in the Lowlands Hugh and Connor were asking themselves exactly the same question.
Fortunately, Rosina did not try to climb into his bed that night, and Logan did not know whether to be relieved, angry or sorry. Relief, of course, was the best option, but a part of him regretted that she did not find him irresistible. He smiled to himself. He definitely was not that!
32
Monique and Hugh -A Confession
Hugh was petrified. He had faced charging bulls and rearing horses in his time, but this fear was different. He was unable to remember the last time he had talked in a cozy, intimate way with a woman, or kissed one. He only hoped that he did not make an absolute fool of himself by stuttering, babbling or laughing too loudly. He had provided wine in a decanter some of his cook's excellent fruit cake and some ripe home made cheese. He hoped that eating and drinking would keep them both occupied enough not to think of less carnal things.
He wondered if he should send Monique a message calling the appointment off, but he simply could not bear to. He both wanted and did not want her to come. He wanted her to come because he desperately wanted to look into her eyes again and kiss her, but he dreaded it for the same reason. Could he stop himself from going further? But perhaps she would not want to, and that would be unthinkable too. It was no good. The only thing he could do was pace the floor and wait for her, hoping she would not be late - and hoping she would come - or not come. He groaned. This was torture.
* * *
As her maid styled her hair and helped her dress, Monique felt exactly the same as Hugh. She too had contemplated not keeping their tryst. She had immediately felt attracted to Hugh in a way she had never felt for Connor, even though he was younger and had fewer lines of experience on his face. Hugh made her feel safe, perhaps because there was something paternal about him, but though she regarded him as a father figure in some strange way, he was a big, strong man, and a very attractive one at that. But she was afraid of her feelings for him - they were unsettling and made her tremble sometimes.
She stood up and looked at herself in the mirror, satisfied as much as she could be under the circumstances. Her riding habit of deep gold-colored linen brought out the amber highlights in her brown eyes and its hood framed her heart-shaped face perfectly. She took a few deep breaths to calm herself, then turned and swept outside to the stables, where she mounted her horse and rode away before she had a chance to change her mind.
As she approached Dumbarton Castle her dread grew, her heart beat faster and her mouth went dry. When she dismounted and the stable boy took her horse away, she went up the stairs to Hugh's apartments with mounting trepidation. His manservant knocked the door and she was admitted to his office. He was usually seated behind his desk, attending to the copious amount of accounting involved in running his estate, but today he was standing by the window, motionless. However, when he heard the knock at the door he spun around and their gazes locked across the room. Her lips parted and her eyes widened as she looked at him, and suddenly she wondered why she had been so terrified. He smiled, his face lit up, and he came forward to kiss her hand.
"Monique," he said huskily, "how beautiful you look."
She laughed.
"Thank you," she replied, "you are very kind. This is my only riding habit. It is very old."
"On you, anything would look beautiful," he smiled, "come and sit down."
He indicated a couch near the fire for her to sit on, then poured her some wine, but as he moved to go to the chair across from her she pulled on his hand.
"No, sit by me," she begged, looking up into his eyes, "I want you to."
He obediently sat down, but put two feet of space between them. Immediately she slid up beside him and closed the distance. She put up a hand to touch his face then he closed his own hand over it, meaning to move hers away, but quite unable to do it. He leaned his cheek against it, shut his eyes and breathed a sigh of utter contentment. They might only have an hour or two, but in that time he meant to get to know her as much as he could. After she was married - well, he would deal with it then and try to find someone else. Now he knew why Maisie had been so insistent about marrying for love. There was really no other reason for marrying at all, and if he could not find it there would be no compromise. Unless he fell in love again there would be no-one else. He felt desperately sorry for Monique, but he was helpless.
"I knew it," she said softly, "you feel the same as I do."
"Yes," he opened his eyes, "but all we can do is enjoy this time together. You are Connor's fiancée, not mine."
She nodded slowly.
"Kiss me," she whispered, moving her lips closer to his.
"No," he answered softly, "no, no, Monique. It would be wrong."
"The best things usually are," she murmured, trailing her fingertips down his neck, making him tremble. She loved her power over this big, strong man. She could make him do anything he wanted right now, and he would be helpless to resist.
"Kiss me," she repeated, "please, just this once."
He swallowed. His mouth was dry, his breathing was beginning to thicken and he was shaking. His body was responding in other ways too, and he knew that soon he would weaken and give in to that one kiss. If it were only a single one he would survive, but more than that and he would be lost. She would not let him stop at one, this intriguing, desirable woman who had weapons against which he could not fight. Then she touched his mouth softly with hers and drew back to look at him for a moment.
* * *
"I love you, Hugh," she said softly, "I have from the moment I first saw you.
I do not know why - I just know."
They looked at each other for a few moments more then he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her very close so that their lips were almost, but not quite, touching.
"I love you too, sweetheart," he said tenderly. And then they really were kissing, deeply but very gently, the tips of their tongues just touching. Hugh felt her straining against him and it inflamed him. He didn't know how much longer he could resist before begging her to let him make love to her because that was what they both wanted, he was sure. He pulled away from her gently, gazing into the dark brown depths of her eyes.
* * *
"Please…" she whispered, "please, Hugh."
"What if you get with child?" he asked desperately, hoping and yet not hoping it would put her off.
* * *
"I cannot," she said sadly, "Hugh - I am not a virgin. I lay with a boy when I was but fourteen years old. We were both children, and we did not know what we were doing. I became pregnant, then lost the baby after four months. After that, the midwife and the doctor said I would never be able to conceive again. Please do not tell Connor."
* * *
